


but at the cost I payed, I'm pretty sure I got screwed

by wafflesofdoom



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: buck wasn't exactly sure how to process the fact he'd been lied to, his entire life - that his parents had forced maddie to keep such a fundamental part of his past, his life, from him. but - at least he wasn't alone.or - eight conversations between buck and his true family as he comes to terms with the existence of the brother he never knew he had. set post 4x04
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 247
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	but at the cost I payed, I'm pretty sure I got screwed

**Author's Note:**

> a general warning for continued mention of a childs death, in this one - both the buckley brother & bobby's kids. brief, but still in there. 
> 
> title from not ok! by chaz cardigan

**i. albert**

Buck had forgotten that Albert would be home, when he managed to stumble through his own front door – breath catching in his chest as he tried to process the bombshell Maddie had just dropped on his life. Maybe – maybe it was rude of him, cruel to forget that he shared his apartment with the younger man, that Albert lived on his couch, but Buck had forgotten, and how he wasn’t sure of a kind way to tell Albert that if he had to have a conversation with another human being, there and then, that he would scream.

And he might not be able to stop screaming.

Albert was looking at him with genuine concern written all over his face, sliding the pan he was using to cook off the hob, so it wouldn’t burn. “Are you okay, Buck?” he asked, and Buck knew he could talk to Albert, and he would try to understand; burdened by his own family issues in ways that would make it easier to admit the insanity of the Buckley family aloud.

But Buck couldn’t.

“That’s kind of a loaded question, Albert,” Buck managed to choke the words out, anxiety clawing at his chest.

Albert inclined his head slightly. “Okay,” he conceded. “Are you well enough to be here, alone – or as alone as you can be with me, here,” he grinned slightly at his own words. “Or do you need me to call someone?”

“I don’t think I know,” Buck admitted, forcing himself to sit at the kitchen table, his blood thundering in his ears as he tried to process everything.

He had a brother. He has a brother – even if that brother wasn’t alive, anymore. Buck had a brother – he wasn’t the only Buckley boy, like he’d believed for so much of his life. For twenty-nine years, he’d thought Maddie was his only sibling, but she wasn’t, and Buck’s entire world felt like it had been spun on its axis and nothing made sense, anymore; but somehow everything made more sense than it ever had before, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

Albert pushed a glass of water toward him, a kind look on his face.

“I don’t think I can talk about it, yet,” Buck admitted, the cool condensation dripping down the side of the glass – a housewarming gift from Hen and Karen, glasses nicer than he’d ever buy himself, if he was being honest – grounding in the way it reminded Buck that he wasn’t dreaming, the glass wet to touch.

“That’s okay,” Albert shrugged. “I can talk, instead, if you want.”

Buck could have cried, with relief. “Yeah, that would be great, Albert.”

Albert grinned. “Okay,” he nodded, moving his pan back onto the hob. “So – I had an online class, today, and one of my classmates, they were clearly not paying attention, but as it turns out, they had taken a series of photos of themselves, and were playing it as a video……..”

Buck forced himself to focus on Albert’s words, his roommate talking about the perfectly mundane happenings of his day, how his online classes went, how their neighbour down the hall still firmly believed he and Buck were a couple, and how its quite sweet, really, because she’s trying her hardest to make sure that they know she accepts them, and she’ll be dropping by a loaf of banana bread, in the morning.

It wasn’t until Albert set a bowl down in front of Buck, a simple pasta dish that made Buck’s stomach growl in acknowledgement of how hungry he was, that Buck spoke, looking at his roommate – his friend – with watery eyes.

“Thank you,” Buck managed to sputter out.

Albert shrugged. “You need to eat,” he said, pushing a fork toward Buck. “My grandmother – she always said that the problems of the world looked a little less daunting, when you looked at them with a full stomach.”

“I don’t just mean for the food,” Buck croaked, though he was grateful for the food – because he wasn’t sure if he had the mental energy to try and make himself dinner, to remember how to cook any of the ingredients that sat in his well-stocked kitchen. “I mean – for taking me out of my head, for a minute.”

Albert smiled, in that endearingly sincere way he always did, Chimney’s brother always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “What are roommates for?”

**ii. bobby**

It’s not as though Buck particularly wanted to tell Bobby, about what was going on – but after the incident at the fire, after the way Buck had been acting, he knew he had to, he knew that he had to admit to his boss what was happening. He’d been insufferable to work with, Buck knew, and his boss was owed an explanation.

What Buck hadn’t expected was Bobby’s reaction. It wasn’t – it wasn’t the reaction of a Captain, a professional acknowledgement of a personal trauma that Buck wasn’t able to compartmentalise and leave at home, like he was supposed to, it was the reaction of a friend, Bobby pulling Buck in for a determined, bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was calm, against the sea of static that was buzzing in Buck’s head, something Buck could cling to as he stood, still as a statue, in Bobby’s embrace.

“You didn’t do anything,” Buck found himself saying, confused.

Bobby pulled back, hands on Buck’s shoulders. “I can be sorry, even if I didn’t have a role to play in this,” he said. “Buck, I’m sorry for you as your friend – what your parents hid from you, it was cruel. You didn’t deserve to be lied to like that.”

Buck swallowed his tears, focusing his gaze on one of the photos hanging on the back wall of Bobby’s office. “Their kid died,” he said, voice robotic as he voiced the sentence he’d practiced over, and over. “I can’t blame them.”

“Yes, you can,” Bobby’s voice was fierce. “Buck – I had to bury my own children. That is a pain I will never forget, and one I will live with for the rest of my life. I can’t even begin to describe to you what that grief, the grief of losing a child, feels like, and I hope you never, ever understand it,” he said. “But I have never put the burden of that grief on May, or Harry. Your parents had no right to force you, and Maddie, to bear their grief in the way they did. It was wrong. It is wrong.”

Buck hated how easily he was crying – how easily he’d always been reduced to tears, too soft, too emotional, not enough of a tough guy to please his father. “It was?” his voice was tiny as he spoke, unsure if he could take Bobby’s words at face value. Was Bobby saying that just to placate him? To make it so he could suck it up, and work?

“Yes, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was firm. “It was wrong – and no one in this team is going to begrudge you the time you need to process this. We’re your family, and we’re here for you. Okay? I’m here for you Buck, whatever you need.”

Buck hadn’t been hugged a lot, as a kid – not by his parents, at least. That was a pitifully sad thing to admit, but it was the truth – for all the ways Maddie had been kind, and affectionate, pressing kisses to Buck’s curls and hugging him close, his parents had been cold, and physically distant, never giving Buck more than a pat on the shoulder.

He knew why, now. They looked at him and all they saw was Daniel – all they ever saw was the son who would forever be twelve, frozen in time. They had watched him grow up, and maybe he was tolerable, when he was younger, when he was going through all the same phases that Daniel had – but as soon as Buck had turned thirteen, and lived longer than the brother he didn’t know existed, his parents had kept their distance more, and more, and then Maddie had left, and Buck had been left to crave physical affection, taking that intimacy wherever he could get it, regardless of the impact it had on him, regardless of how it would all leave him feeling even lonelier, when it was over.

But –

Bobby was a dad.

Not his dad –

But someone’s dad.

“Could I…” Buck cut himself off, embarrassed. “Could I have another hug, Bobby?”

Bobby’s eyes were sad, and full of sympathy – but not pity, Buck noted. “Yeah, kid,” Bobby said, pulling him in for a hug, Buck forced to stoop a little, to match Bobby’s height, comfortable in the embrace, this time. “You can have a hug.”

**iii. hen**

“Hey there, Buckaroo.”

Buck looked up to see Hen approaching him, doughnut in hand.

“You were missing out on the sugar delivery,” Hen explained, hanging him the plate. “So I snagged you your favourite flavour.”

Buck wanted to cry. “You didn’t have to do that, Hen.”

Hen shrugged, sliding down the wall so she was sitting on the concrete next to him, the bright sun of the Los Angeles afternoon beating down on them, the corner they were sitting in slightly secluded, distant from the noise of the firehouse that Buck normally thrived in – just, not today.

“I wanted to,” she said, taking a bite of her own doughnut – cinnamon sugar, Buck noted, her favourite. She’d always been the one to support Buck’s belief that simple was best, when it came to doughnuts, never making fun of Buck’s preference for plain old raspberry jelly flavour; unlike Chimney and the rest of the team, who favoured the hipster doughnut place around the corner from the station, and all the weird flavours they sold.

“Because you feel sorry for me?” Buck found himself asking.

“Because you’re my friend,” Hen corrected, nudging Buck’s knee with her own. “And I can see you’re hurting, Buck, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Buck knew he didn’t look the best, rocking up to their shift that morning – his eyes were red raw from crying, because he was in that stage of processing it all, now (Dr. Copeland had assured him that crying was a perfectly healthy trauma response, but Buck was tired of Albert’s quietly concerned looks, because apparently even crying alone in his shower didn’t guarantee privacy in the tiny space they co-existed in.)

He just hadn’t realised he looked that bad.

“I guess you know, then,” Buck murmured, poking at his doughnut. He’d given Bobby permission to tell the team, if he felt it was appropriate – he just hadn’t been able to face the prospect of telling them himself.

“No,” Hen’s voice was firm. “Whatever is going on with you, is your story to tell, Buck. Unless you want to tell me, I have no intention of finding out what is happening.”

Buck shot her a confused look.

“Chimney, he gave me the impression that whatever you’ve found out, is something that was kept from you by the people you love most in the world, and you didn’t have a choice in who found out, because Maddie told him first, and when – and when you got trapped, in that fire, Chimney panicked and told some of the team,” Hen said, explaining what Buck already knew – what Chimney had already desperately apologised for, terrified that Buck’s newfound knowledge of his dead brother had pushed him from resident daredevil to on the verge of suicidal.

Buck didn’t blame him, really.

“I didn’t hear the secret, at the fire,” Hen said. “And I asked Bobby not to tell me. I want you to be able to tell at least one person, on your own terms, if you want to tell me. And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay too – I just want you to have the option. I’m happy to be the friend who doesn’t know, if that’s what you need.”

Hen’s sincerity was making Buck want to cry again, his friend looking at him earnestly as she spoke. He knew that if he asked her, Hen would do her best to never find out what Buck’s secret was – Hen was good with secrets – and Buck wasn’t sure how to voice his appreciation out loud in a way that felt appropriate for the magnitude of what Hen was offering him.

Peace.

The power to take control of his own situation.

Buck hadn’t felt in control from the moment he had picked up that photograph of Daniel, and Maddie had admitted who it was, but now, for a second, at least, he felt in control.

“I had a brother,” Buck admitted, hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. “I had a brother, and they never told me – they kept him from me. For my whole life, they kept him from me, Hen.”

“Oh, Buck,” Hen’s voice was thick with emotion as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I know – I know it wouldn’t have change the fact he died, when I was a baby,” Buck continued, managing to talk about it, even just a little, for the first time since he’d found out. “But I deserved to know, Hen.”

“Yes, you did,” Hen was fierce in her agreement. “They had no right to keep his existence from you, Buck.”

“It explains it, you know,” Buck glanced at Hen, the protectiveness that was written all over her face making his heart twist in his chest. “Why they never loved me, not really – I was never Daniel.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand your parents,” Hen said, wrapping her arms around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him close, running a hand through his curls, the same way Maddie used to, when he was younger. “But I’ll tell you something for nothing, Buck; I love you. I love you like a brother, and I know its not the same, but I love you. And loving you has been damn easy, from the moment you stepped into this fire station – because you have a heart of goddamn gold, Buck. And your parents inability to see that is not your fault.”

Buck let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into the comforting embrace Hen was offering him. “I’m not sure if I believe you, Hen.”

“That’s okay,” Hen reassured. “I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

“You will?”

“I will,” Hen confirmed. “Because that’s what family does, Buck. Now – eat your doughnut before we get called out.”

**iv. chimney**

Buck hated the tentative way that his friend – and teammate, and future brother-in-law, probably – approached him, looking nervous. He hated it – and he hated how he didn’t have it in him to put a stop to it, just yet.

“Hey, Buck,” Chimney greeted.

Buck paused what he was doing, the chrome of the ladder truck already gleaming from the thorough polish he had given it. “Are you here as my sisters boyfriend, Chimney, or my friend?”

“As your friend,” Chimney answered without a second’s hesitation, which Buck had to admit he appreciated.

“Okay,” Buck put the polish down entirely, nodding. “Because I’m not ready to talk to Maddie about this yet.”

“She knows,” Chimney nodded, quiet for a second. “I wanted to talk to you as my friend, Buck, because – and I would walk through fire for your sister – you were my friend before I ever met Maddie, and I don’t want you to forget that. I care about you as more than just my girlfriends brother, Buck, and I’m – I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Buck didn’t have a reason not to believe Chimney – really, he didn’t. “I’m still angry,” he admitted. “That you knew before I did. You had no right to know before I did, Chim.”

“I know,” Chimney agreed, rocking forward on his heels as he spoke. “I wish I didn’t know, Buck,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t found out before you. I – I said, from the moment I knew, that you deserved to know, but as much as it wasn’t my place to know before you, it wasn’t my place to tell you. It needed to come from Maddie, and your parents.”

Buck nodded. It was true – that it would have been worse to hear it from Chimney, and not Maddie, or his mom and dad. Of all the people to hear it from, Chimney would have been the worst one. It should have come from his parents, really – from the people who’d forced a child, their daughter, to keep their older brother’s existence a secret their entire lives. Maddie had been nine, when she’d been forced to pretend Daniel had never existed. She couldn’t have possibly understood the consequences of their parents refusal to acknowledge that Daniel had been a part of their lives, once.

“I know,” Buck said finally. “I know, Chim. I just – I can’t pretend like I’m feeling all that logical, about all of this. I’m trying – I’m just not there yet.”

Chimney’s expression was genuinely understanding. “You don’t need to be logical about this, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re entitled to deal with this and grieve – and be angry as hell – in whatever way works best for you. I just – I wanted to know that I’m here for you, that I’m your friend. And if you need to talk to me, I can be your friend – and just your friend, not Maddie’s boyfriend. What we talk about, it stays between me and you, Buck.”

Buck gave Chimney a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chim,” he said, awkwardly wringing his polish rag between his hands, twisting, and pulling, the material taut in his hands. “I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about it with anyone, yet.”

And that was the truth of it –

Buck wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone, not his friends, not Maddie, not even with his therapist – not yet.

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Chimney said, grabbing another polish rag, smirking at Buck. “Like your terrible polish job.”

Buck glared good-naturedly at Chimney. “I’m not a probie anymore, Chim, don’t start this.”

Chimney whistled cheerfully as he started to polish, grinning. “You’ll always be a probie to me, Buckaroo.”

**v. athena**

Buck hadn’t seen Athena in a while – their calls didn’t actually crossover, all that much, so it wasn’t all that unusual to have not seen her in a few weeks. A part of Buck was glad – and not because he didn’t love Athena, but he wasn’t sure if he could cope with seeing the anger she carried on his behalf in person. Buck didn’t like when other people felt burdened by his issues.

“Buck.”

Buck paused, halfway back to the truck. He couldn’t exactly ignore his Captain’s wife – or anyone, for that matter. Maddie (Maddie, always Maddie, not their parents) had raised him better than that, had raised him to be polite. “Hi, Athena.”

“I know you’re not ready to talk about it,” Athena said, hands on hips, stance fierce and protective and everything Buck never had in a mother. He was glad, May and Harry had her, at least. “But I wanted you to know – parents shouldn’t lie to their children the ways yours have lied to you. It’s cruel, and I’m sorry it happened to you, Buck.”

Buck didn’t quite know what to say. “Uh – thank you?”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” Athena raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not your mother. I’m your friend, though, Buck – and I’m someone’s mom, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that your parents did all this out of some twisted sense of protection for you, and Maddie. Parents – however hard – should teach you how to grieve. Not teach you to be invisible as a punishment for something you never knew happened.”

Buck nodded, shaking hands gripping tightly to his halogen. “You’re a great mom, Athena,” he said quietly.

“And you’re a great man, Evan Buckley,” Athena gave his elbow a squeeze. “I just thought you should hear that from someone today.”

**vi. christopher**

Buck had an armful of Christopher the second he walked through the front door of the Diaz household, the little boy flying at him, crutches and all. “Oh, hey, buddy,” Buck laughed, easily scooping a wriggling Christopher up, easing his crutches off of his arms so he could hug him properly.

“I’m glad you’re here, Buck!” Christopher said, grinning widely at Buck, his new braces glinting in the soft light of the evening, reminding Buck of how grown up the kid in his arms was getting – on the cusp of his teenage years, all too soon.

“I’m glad I’m here too, buddy,” Buck replied, holding Christopher close. He wasn’t even the kids dad – and he couldn’t imagine ever lying to him, like his parents had to him, couldn’t imagine doing anything except loving the little boy with everything he had.

“Dad said you’ve had a bad week,” Christopher said matter-of-factly. “So we have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Buck gave Christopher a watery smile, flashing Eddie a confused look.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “It was all this guy,” he said proudly. “I just did the driving.”

Buck laughed, looking back at Christopher. “Where are we going, then?”

“Kitchen!”

Tossing a giggling Christopher over his shoulder, Buck made his way to the kitchen, Christopher chatting excitedly as he moved. Buck felt like he was going to cry – really, properly cry – when he spotted the feast of all of his favourite things on the Diaz kitchen table.

“We got all your favourites!” Christopher explained. “Popcorn, and chocolate – and pizza! And we’re going to watch Inside Out, because its your favourite film, and me and dad, we’re going to make sure you feel better, Buck.”

Buck wiped roughly at his eyes. This kid. “I already feel better, buddy.”

Christopher’s brow was furrowed. “But you’re crying.”

“People can cry when they’re happy, Chris,” Eddie explained, running a soothing hand down Buck’s back. “It doesn’t always mean someone is sad.”

“Your dad is right,” Buck confirmed. “I’m crying because I’m happy – and I’m very grateful to have such a thoughtful kid taking care of me.”

Christopher grinned again, patting a sticky hand against Buck’s cheek. “You’re gonna be o-kay, kid,” he beamed, and for the first time, Buck almost believed it.

**vii. eddie**

“He’s out like a light,” Buck said softly, half closing the porch door behind them – enough that they wouldn’t wake Christopher, with their conversation, but still open enough that they’d be able to hear if Christopher woke up in the night.

Christopher had insisted on Buck being the one to put him to bed, that night, despite how hard Eddie tried to get Christopher to give Buck a break – but Buck had enjoyed the routine of it all, if he was being honest, Christopher’s happy snorts as Buck (badly) danced around the bathroom while Christopher brushed his teeth making him forget the car-wreck his life was for a few minutes, at least.

Eddie nodded, nudging a beer toward Buck. “You spoil him, you know,” he said, not a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I know you read him two chapters of his book, not one.”

Buck hummed gratefully. “I know,” he said, voice dropping. “Kids deserve to be spoiled, a bit at least.”

“How are you doing Buck? Really?” Eddie asked, and Buck felt a dam inside him break – he’d kept everything he was feeling so bottled up, for so long, and all of a sudden, on his best friends back porch, it all came pouring out, tears cascading down his cheeks.

“I had a brother,” Buck hiccupped out, bordering on hysterical as he cried, Eddie moving quickly so he was crouching in front of Buck, soothing hands on Buck’s knees. “I had a brother, Eddie.”

Eddie’s face was twisted, a mixture of heartbreak and sympathy. “I know, Buck,” he soothed softly, gentle hands wiping at Buck’s tears, taking Buck’s hands in his own, grounding Buck in the new reality he had found himself in, the past few weeks – a world where he was suddenly the youngest of three siblings, the third Buckley, not the second.

“I always wanted a brother,” Buck admitted out-loud for the first time, unable to stop his tears, gripping tightly to Eddie’s hands. “I love – I love Maddie, but I always wanted a brother, too, and I had one, and I didn’t know, and I can’t stop thinking about how different life might have been if he was still around. He was ten years older than me.”

Eddie was quiet.

“His name was Daniel,” Buck said, shakily voicing his brothers name out-loud for the first time to someone other than maybe. “His name was Daniel, and he was ten years older than me, and I’d have been a really good brother to him, and that’s all I know, and I just – I wish I knew more.”

“You know,” Eddie’s voice was soft, and reassuring, comforting and grounding in ways that Buck wasn’t sure how he ever lived without before, his best friend the kind of anchor Buck needed, in his life. “I bet Maddie knows more.”

“Eddie….”

“I know it hurts,” Eddie squeezed Buck’s hands, his expression encouraging as Buck forced himself to look at the older man. “And it’s going to hurt for a long time, Buck, and I’m sorry for that – but you’re not alone in that hurt. Me, Chris, Hen – the others – we’re here, and we love you, and we’ll do our best to understand, but there’s one person in the world that shares this hurt with you.”

“But she knew, Eddie, she knew all along, and she didn’t tell me – and I know she was a kid and it wasn’t her fault, but it still hurts, because she got to know him and grieve him, and I didn’t.”

“Did she?” Eddie countered, wise as ever now he went to regular therapy. “She had to pretend he didn’t exist. To grieve properly – you need to talk about the person, about who they were, and Maddie didn’t get to do that. As much as she can help you get to know who Daniel was, you can help her grieve the brother she wasn’t allowed to remember. I can’t help you do that.”

Buck tightened his grip on Eddie’s hands. “I can’t, not yet,” he admitted hoarsely. “Not tonight.”

“No,” Eddie hummed his agreement. “Tonight its just you and me, and the rest of these beers, and as much crying as you want. Okay?”

Buck laughed. Back when he first met Eddie, he could never have imagined their friendship getting to this point – to where they could sit, and talk, and drink and cry together. Somehow, somewhere along the way, they’d created this safe space, together, and Buck had never been more grateful for his best friend than he was, there and then.

He had a brother.

And tonight – tonight was the first time he’d said that out loud and hadn’t felt bitter, and angry, about it. Tonight had been the first time he’d said those words out loud and wondered who the person was, who Daniel had been – instead of focusing on the lies, the hurt of it all.

That was progress.

Swallowing thickly, Buck wiped at his sore eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he directed his question at Eddie.

“Anything?” Eddie’s lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Anything,” Buck confirmed.

Eddie grinned. “Did you know - nearly three percent of the ice in Antarctic glaciers is penguin urine?”

Buck snorted, the sound outrageously loud in the quiet of the evening. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

(He knew – of course he knew. Eddie was the only person who knew exactly how to bring Buck out of his own head, with odd facts and quirky news articles, anything to distract Buck from the overwhelming noise of his own thoughts).

Eddie took a swig of his beer, smiling contently. “You’re not the only one who can know weird things.”

**viii. maddie**

When she opened the door, Maddie greeted Buck with a relief he didn’t feel deserving to be on the receiving end of.

“I’m sorry, Maddie.”

“No,” Maddie interrupted, pulling him close, clinging tightly to his shoulders, refusing to let her pregnant belly be an obstacle to squeezing the life out of Buck – and he couldn’t say he was opposed to a bone-crushing hug from his sister. “You don’t need to apologise, Buck, not to me – not about this. I should be apologising to you.”

Buck pressed his face into the material of Maddie’s cardigan, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. She’d worn the same one since she was a teenager, and in the years when they weren’t in contact, Buck – well, he’d sometimes go to the perfume section of the department store, and sneak a sample, desperate to feel close to his sister, even if Doug had long since cut her off from him.

“I can’t hear you,” Maddie admitted, her voice soft as she ran a gentle hand through Buck’s hair.

“I said,” Buck pulled back slightly, Maddie’s tears reflecting his own. “I know we’ve got a lot to talk about – but uh, Maddie, will you tell me about him?”

Maddie brushed away a few stray tears of Buck’s before they had the chance to drip from his chin, nodding. “I’d really like that,” she confirmed, tugging Buck toward the couch. Her baby box was still on the coffee table, a photograph of Daniel – the same one Buck had found – propped up against the wood, another one next to it.

Of the three of them.

Buck looked as though he couldn’t be more than a few weeks old, in the photograph, Maddie proudly holding him in her arms, a little boy who was familiar, in so many ways, hair blond and bright like Buck’s had been, as a child – and unfamiliar in so many others, a kid who would forever be twelve years old.

“Is that us?” Buck asked, doing his best to fold his long limbs, curling himself up against Maddie, thinking back to when they were kids, and all the evenings they’d do the same – Buck curled up in her lap as they watched TV, or as Maddie soothed his tears after a fight with their parents. Her belly got in the way, a bit, and a part of Buck’s heart ached with the knowledge that someone else, his niece, would curl up in Maddie’s lap the same way he used to, in just a matter of months, but he pushed the thought aside.

“I told everyone you were my baby,” Maddie said, sounding like she was smiling. “Oh, I loved you so much from the moment you were born, Buck, and I wouldn’t let Daniel go near you – because you were mine.”

Buck didn’t try and stop his tears, now.

“He loved you just as much,” Maddie continued. “He would tell dad, how excited he was to be able to teach you to play soccer, one day, and ride a bike.”

All the things Maddie had taught him, in the end, Buck thought to himself.

“He picked your middle name,” Maddie continued. “Because he had a best friend called EJ, and he told mom and dad that you should have the same initials – Evan James - because you were going to be his new best friend.”

Closing his eyes, Buck let Maddie’s words wash over him, painting a picture of someone he would never have the chance to know – but loved, Buck thought, all the same, because Daniel couldn’t have known, how life would turn out without him, because he had only been a kid, when he died – and he wouldn’t have understood.

“He’d be proud of you, I think,” Maddie said quietly, pressing a kiss to Buck’s curls. “Because I am, Buck, I am so proud of you. You are not a disappointment. You are the greatest man I have ever known and I am so proud of you, and I love you, and I’ll tell everyone the same thing I told them when I was eight and I held you for the first time. You’re mine, Buck, not theirs.”

Buck nodded, not trusting himself to open his eyes. “I love you, Maddie.”

“I love you, little brother,” Maddie sounded like she was crying too, now. “We’re going to be okay.”

Buck –

Well, he didn’t have a reason not to believe his sister.

He wanted to believe her.

And maybe –

Just maybe.

He already did.

Yeah.

They would be okay.

fin. 


End file.
